


Early Morning Jog

by Dramione84



Series: Moments [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Quidditch, Rivals, Running, Shower Sex, Smut, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione84/pseuds/Dramione84





	

Slipping out of the castle, Oliver Wood felt his face flush at the blast of the breeze that whipped its way around the building. It was just after 6am and the chill of the Autumn morning made him grateful for his scarf as he made his way down to the pitch.

He paused at the stands, tugging his joggers off, goosebumps appearing as the air hit his legs, making his hairs stand a little proud of his tanned flesh. Pulling his jumper off, he folded it neatly, depositing it on the wooden bench where he'd put his trousers. Ground mist rolled at his ankles, the grass covered in early morning dew that dampened his trainers as he started his early morning ritual of thirty laps of the pitch.

Lost in thought as his feet pounded out a steady tempo, he didn't see the figure emerge from the changing rooms as he started his fifth lap. The dark haired wizard began his jog, falling in step to the same steady rhythm fifty paces behind Wood.

As Oliver made his way from the far arc of the oval pitch, he sensed the movement out of the corner of his eye, turning his head slightly to see the wizard entering the bend from the other side. He frowned, squinting slightly, wondering who else would be mad enough to come down to the pitch so early on this late September morning for a jog.

"Flint" he growled, under his breath, before turning his head forward, his chin jutting out slightly as he grit his teeth, determined not to pay the man any heed. He picked up his pace slightly, as Flint matched the change in his cadence, a smirk on his lips.

The Slytherin captain adjusted his tempo, his eyes locked on Wood's back like a hunter tracking its prey, as he gathered pace, lessening Wood's lead.

Forty paces

Thirty paces.

Twenty.

Ten.

Wood felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick, the temptation to look over his shoulder increasing with every second. Flint was just five yards behind him now, bearing down on him, causing Wood's heart to pound against his chest like a hammer against an anvil. The chaser was along side him now, falling into the rhythm Wood pounded out as they continued around the pitch.

Neither wizard acknowledged the other, either with word or look as they held the pace for five more laps. Wood snapped first as they came past the tunnel that lead down to the changing rooms. His eyes darted slightly towards Flint whose smirk increased as Wood picked up his pace. Flint matched it, then increased his own pace, daring Wood to follow suit.

For five more laps, they played their game of cat and mouse, egging the other on, Flint's smirk increasing as Wood's frown deepened. Laughing, Flint dropped his pace, watching Wood let his foot off the gas to drop in step with him.

Silently they carried on at an even tempo for five more laps. As they came out of the arc nearest the tunnel, Wood threw the gauntlet down, breaking into a run. Flint let him go for fifty yards, watching the change in Wood's posture as he relaxed despite the effort. Sprinting to catch up, Flint caught him, his smirk softening to a grin as his eyes found Wood's. To his surprise, Wood grinned back, his eyes glistening as they took off again, both boys enjoying the surprising freedom that running gave them.

As they came into the home straight of the final lap, both boys laughing despite the burn in their legs and lungs, Flint dropped back slightly as he sensed Wood's sprint. Breaking through the imaginary finish line, Wood slowed to a jog, his breathing laboured. Behind him, Flint took off, sprinting to his second place finish but not stopping when he hit the mark. Instead he continued, bowling full bodied into Wood, both young men crashing to the ground in a heap. Startled by the sudden action as Flint went in for the kill, he was winded, groaning under the weight of his rival whose arms were now braced either side of him.

"What the fuck?" he choked out, twisting his body around, glaring up into the eyes of Flint.

The Slytherin made no verbal reply as he chuckled, the vibration rumbling through Wood causing a strange feeling to pool in Wood's lower abdomen. Splaying his hands across Flint's chest, he heaved, pushing him off enough for Wood to crawl out.

Grabbing his clothes from the stand, he chanced a look back at the pitch to see Flint resting on his elbow, grinning at Wood as they locked eyes. Growling under his breath, he turned, stalking off towards the changing rooms and a very hot shower to soothe his now spent muscles.

Stepping into the stall, he grabbed the handle of the shower, thrusting it up forcefully as he glowered at the pristine tiles. Leaning his forehead against them, he relished in the coolness, as the hot water pounded on his shoulders, washing the sweat away. He allowed his mind to wander unchecked for a moment, images of the last hour flashing before his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the feeling that had washed over him when Flint had him pinned to the ground, pressing his body into him.

Arousal.

Wood's eyes shot open with shock as he processed the feeling.

His mind caught up with his body, realising his hand was gripped tightly around his cock, his hand working out a steady rhythm as he recalled the feeling of pounding out his run alongside the enigmatic Slytherin. He closed his eyes, his mouth dropping open slightly as he increased his pace, picturing Flint braced over him once more.

The stall door flew open, Wood's eyes shooting open once more, his hand stilled, fingers still wrapped around his length. He had no time to process the presence of a very naked Flint as the hand shot out, gripping his shoulder as he was slammed into the tiles. His mouth barely had time to drop open as Flint's lips crashed down onto his own, his tongue thrusting inside his mouth. The hand that wasn't gripping his shoulder, took his wrist, ripping it from his cock before Flint's hand replaced it, Wood groaning into his mouth as he mourned the loss of contact momentarily before rejoicing in the new feeling as Flint set his own frantic pace.

Sensing his nearness to completion, he bit down hard on Wood's bottom lip, sending him reeling over the edge.

"Fuck, Marcus" Wood gasped as the young man slowed his pace, milking him dry. He felt his knees buckle slightly but Flint held him in place, his kisses becoming softer and more sensual. They broke for air, Flint dropping his lips to the column of Wood's throat, planting soft kisses as the Gryffindor captain got his breath back.

"Same time tomorrow?" he joked, before feeling Flint tense slightly, causing him to wonder if he had said the wrong thing and broken the spell.

He frowned slightly, as Flint pulled his head up.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable rejection.

Instead he felt a kiss press to his temple, hot lips finding his earlobe.

"No, meet me in the Room of Requirement, tonight at eleven." Flint whispered.

.


End file.
